and at the end of summer
by doroniasobi
Summary: at the end of summer, Maya sits, waits for the clock to hit midnight, and goes out. — Phoenix, Maya


**A/N: I've been meaning to write one ever since I finished the whole series (which was quite a while ago, actually) and I didn't do so until now. This... was a very fun idea to write, but it did give me a bit of trouble, hahah. Enjoy!**

* * *

When Maya stays over for the night when she claims that she is 'too tired and too lazy to walk home', she waits until the clock hits midnight and goes out. Phoenix doesn't realize this until he wakes up in the middle of the night to _not_ find her snoozing on the sofa like she regularly does when she stays over. His brain tells him this in steps, because when Phoenix is tired from all of his walking during the days, from all his yelling in court, he really cannot focus on long sentences and facts.

Well—first of all, Maya is gone. And the possibility of her being kidnapped floats away, because she'd been kidnapped before, and well, as soon as common sense hits again—who would want to kidnap Maya? Phoenix realizes this is a mean thing to think, but when he remembers her boisterous personality and her endless rants of Steel Samurai reruns on television (and occasionally Pink Princess; Maya still complains about the setting—"I still don't understand why they didn't just keep it as _Neo_ Olde Tokyo and change the sequel to _Little_ Olde Tokyo! Nick, what's your opinion on this? _Neo_ Olde Tokyo is better, right? Riiiiiight?")—and Phoenix really could go on, but he'd only be wasting his time.

Second, Maya's shoes are gone, too, and unless there is a shoe thief wandering around in the neighbourhood (which Phoenix is sure there _isn't_), his best guess is that Maya was probably unable to sleep and simply went out for a walk. Even though he has no idea where she would go at this time of day.

And third—actually, Phoenix isn't even sure there's a third, only knows that his brain is muddled and it's too late to be thinking right, and so he washes his face, grabs his jacket, and goes out looking for her because really—Maya had been accused of murder before, Maya had been kidnapped before, and Maya had almost been killed before, and as much as Phoenix would like to stay out of her affairs, he had also made a promise to Mia, and that was a promise he intended on keeping.

He doesn't know where she could have gone—many of the stores were closed, and there isn't really anything interesting to do at midnight anyway. He almost gives up searching for her the moment he takes a step outside; the hot, summer wind hits him like a wall, forcing him to breathe in musky, suffocating air. It is too warm. He closes the door, takes his jacket off, and brings a sweater with him instead, just in case.

Eventually, he finds her crouched in the park where there is a pond that Phoenix remembers splashing in years ago. She has a small flashlight in hand, her other hand deep in the murky water.

Phoenix doesn't know what to say to her—he's torn between yelling or asking if she's crazy, but Maya already knows the answer to that and she doesn't do well with rhetorical questions, either.

"Maya," he begins, his eyebrows creasing.

She jumps at the sound of his voice and turns around. She's dressed in her normal clothing. "Nick! Hi! Um—you're here!" Maya looks at him and can tell that Phoenix would really rather be in bed, but he's _here_. She giggles into her hand.

He's tired. All he wants is to go home. "Let's go," he mumbles to her, sighing. "It's late."

"Aw, Nick, don't be a party pooper! Nobody's awake here past ten anyway and you know it!" She grabs onto Phoenix's hand and pulls hard. "And I was having fun, too!"

"Pray tell," he sniffs, "what were you doing?"

Maya rolls her eyes and throws her hands in the air dramatically. "You don't know _anything_, Nick—and you call yourself a _lawyer_! Come on! It's snail time."

"Uh," Phoenix says.

"Oh, come on—_please_? There are never places like these in Kurain!" She's crouching by the water again; Phoenix takes one look and shudders. He can already feel the mud seeping in through his shoes. All around him is a raw, earthy smell of mud and dirt and all sorts of plants, both living and dead. There is also a rotting log somewhere over towards the left.

"Snail territory," Maya clarifies when she catches Phoenix staring, and she waves him closer.

"Snail?" Phoenix gulps. He's never really been good with insects and the smaller animals. Something tells him that this time wouldn't be any different. "Uh, Maya," he tries to say.

But she ignores him, a familiar pocket flashlight in her right hand, her left hand already back underwater. "Hurry, Nick!"

_Hurry? What's there to hurry with—it's not like they're fast enough to run away, anyway_.

"Please," she's repeating, struggling to stand properly. "They're hard to find underwater. I found the two others on that log over there, but there are more in the water, I just _know_ it, Nick!"

And well, Phoenix supposes, she's being polite this time around, so what's the harm in helping? He takes the flashlight from her and shines it on the water, watching the beam of light. "Better?"

Maya grins, nods, and digs both hands back in.

It is more help than Phoenix had expected, but Maya pulls out two more tiny shells out of the water and drops them gently in a glass jar—didn't Phoenix once keep peanut butter in that jar?—and only a few moments later, she's got ten shells in the jar and counts six that actually have living things in them. She tells Phoenix that this is amazing, and when Phoenix tells her that he doesn't see anything amazing about it, she rolls her eyes and tells him that he's old and doesn't understand what it's like to be young again. It's a bit of an insult, but Phoenix is used to it already, and that's okay.

"Now we're going to race them," Maya says, eyes glittering.

Like half an hour ago, all Phoenix wants to do is _sleep_. "No," he tells her. "We're going back."

"But nobody is _out_ here, Nick! It's perfect for snail racing!"

"It's the fact that _nobody is out here_ that bothers me!"

She scoffs. "You don't understand children, Nick. You really are getting old, aren't you?"

"To be honest, you shouldn't be considered much of a child either. You're in your late teens, Maya."

"Watching Steel Samurai replenishes that lost youth," she sniffs. "You're old at heart _and_ everywhere else, too. Next time Pearly comes over, I'll be sure to tell her to stay away from people like you."

Phoenix doesn't know how to respond to this, so Maya babbles on.

"Now we have to name them! I'll take these three—you can have those other three. I'm trusting your naming sense, so make it good!"

"Tired, More Tired, and Tiredest," Phoenix says, yawning. "And it's going to take them forever to race. Can we wait until morning to do this?"

Maya throws the flashlight at him. "No, we're going to do this now. And name them properly! Tiredest isn't even a word; did you even pass English, Nick? How laaaaaaame!"

Phoenix stares. Maya pays no mind and picks them up, one by one, placing them on her palm gingerly. "I'm going to call you Ham," Maya tells her snail—the one that does nothing but hide in its shell. "And you'll be Burger, because you look intelligent enough. And this last one—oh, wow, you're fat."

Phoenix stares at the three he's been assigned to name and groans.

* * *

As it turns out, it is one of Maya's snails that win the race—Phoenix can't tell which one it is, but he really doesn't care, and he really hasn't cared for the last hour and a half. Or rather, he doesn't want to care. And he doesn't. And he's not going to start, either. It's flipping three in the morning and Phoenix is cranky, more because Tired gave up on moving an inch away from the starting point, More Tired just didn't move at _all_, and Tiredest gave up only millimetres from _reaching_ the finish line.

"And Burger wins the race," Maya squeals, throwing her left hand in the air and holding her right to her lips, cupping around her mouth like she would a bullhorn. "I told you I'd win, Nick. Pay up!"

Phoenix blanches. "You didn't say anything about betting _money_," he flubbers.

"I did—in my head. You owe me one thousand two million dollars!"

"But I—wait, that kind of money doesn't even exist, Maya."

"Use your imagination, Nick! Boy, you _are_ getting old—your imagination probably didn't want you anymore because you're growing old and wrinkly—and _oh_ is that a white hair?"

"Well, if I'm old, then you're old, too!"

"Teeeeeen, Nick." Maya rolls her eyes at him, shaking her head as though Phoenix was once again that stupid little boy who cried too often and told lots of stupid lies. "I'm a teeeeen—and you're in your twenties! You're old! Oldie! Ahah!"

"Whatever," Phoenix sighs. "It's three in the morning, Maya—can we continue this conversation tomorrow?"

"I'm still not tired."

"I am _not_ singing you a lullaby."

She huffed, crossed her arms, and puffed her cheeks. "Fine. At least help me put them in the jar, then."

Phoenix blanches. "You're… taking them home."

"Yeah. And?"

"And… you're taking them—to _my _office?"

"Yeah. And?"

"…_My_ office?"

Maya snorts. "Your point, Nick?"

Phoenix opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

"That's what I thought," she says, beaming. "Now—help me put them in! I need leaves and grass, too—don't forget!"

It takes all of Phoenix's will and dignity not to pass out right then and there. He is absolutely sure that by the time they get back to his office, both his will and dignity will have disappeared. Or at least filed for a divorce.

"_Nick_! He's getting away!"

_I'm doing this for Mia._

"Nick!"

"What?" he grouches.

"Not _you_, y'old bum! _Nick_!"

And it might be because it's three in the morning, but Phoenix is very, very utterly confused. "But I thought…" he trails off. "I thought I _was_ Nick."

"Not _you_, Nick—you sure are weird. Maybe your brain cells are dying or something. But it's the _other_ Nick! He disappeared!"

"…There's another Nick?" And there is a small moment where Phoenix can't help but feel slightly saddened that he is not the only Nick to Maya. He frowns a bit.

"Oh wait no," Maya giggles, and reaches her arm out to nudge something on his shoulder. "He's right here! You two are so alike, really."

"…His name is _Nick_?"

"I named him after you!"

"…Oh."

"He was the first one I found," Maya says proudly, holding snail!Nick to his face. "Isn't he cuuuute?"

Phoenix studies snail!Nick. "He looks nothing like me," he proclaims.

Maya snorts at him again. "He's as fat as you are old!"

Phoenix stares at Maya again and rolls his eyes; he doesn't know what time it is, doesn't know why exactly Maya walks out into the night to go looking for _snails_, let alone know why she _races_ them.

But, he supposes, it really wouldn't be _Maya_ if she didn't do all these things. And well—it was best for Maya to stay Maya. After all—who else was going to rant about Steel Samurai and eat burgers with him before and after cases? Maya was Maya—he would never understand her, never follow her line of logic, and would most certainly never admit that when she was around, he was much less of a bum.

... Though he does wish that she would stop cheating his money out of him whenever he lost her bets.

"Nick, let's gooooo!"

For the first time that night, Phoenix smiles.

* * *

"Good morning, Nick!"

"Good—_Maya._"

Maya beams. "Yeeeeeees?"

"I thought… I—"

"Beautiful sight, isn't it?"

"I…"

"I'm going to borrow your stove now, okay?"

Phoenix doesn't respond—

For there are six snails oozing on his kitchen table.

* * *

_Owari_

_2011.01.21  
_


End file.
